In The House That Is No Longer
by Chubbidust
Summary: Fuel didn't know what was going on. His dad had left to investigate the loud booms in the forest. The child was confused, isn't this Sunshine Forest? Why would it be unsafe? Everything was fine before. Then he gets a taste of what horrors await him in the future.


Fuel was terrified, no doubt. The day was going great so far, he ate some delicious nut bread as a snack recently, and everything was okay.

It wasn't okay right now.

There were loud noises in the forest, unlike anything Fuel had ever heard before. It wasn't a nice loud noise, but one that filled him with dread. He could hear animals in the distance crying out, running for their lives from whatever threat was lurking towards them.

His dad told him he was off to investigate, but he turned around as soon as he went out the door, spotting Fuel about to follow. He told him to stay in the house with a stern tone, and Fuel did so with no argument. Now he was inside the house, and the smell of smoke was beginning to reach his nostrils.

 _...Fire?_

He looked out the window with uncertainty, trying to spot any fire outside. He saw smoke in the sky, raising itself upwards and looming above. He shivered and closed the window. Despite his name being Fuel, he wasn't one for fires. Or smoke.

He sat on his bed, tempted to wrap his blue blanket around himself for comfort, but then he realized how hot it was getting in his room. He wiped some sweat off his brow and fiddled with the collar of his red and white shirt, growing more and more nervous by the second. He jumped at the sound of wood creaking, and shakily looked up.

Wood crashed down from the ceiling close by his bed, burning with red hot flames. He yelped, flailing on his bed in surprise and falling off of the mattress. The wood creaked under his weight, and he looked down with horror. He slowly backed away from the creaky wood, and it's good he did so right on time, as the wood soon collapsed not five seconds after. He gasped, horrified, and peered down the hole in the floor.

The bottom floor was burning red everywhere, everything on that floor was getting scorched and burned to a crisp, and not one thing could Fuel do about it. His lip trembled slightly at the sight, before he remembered to stay strong. He heard more creaking noises and looked around, spotting more and more of the flooring succumbing to the fire and falling to the ground below. He whimpered and sunk down to the ground, smoke starting to enter his room with no mercy.

He steadily made his way to the window, the wood creaking and cracking under his weight, but he kept strong. Fuel heard a brief buzzing sound in his ear, which caused him to look around wildly for the source, but then he was hit in the face from something big and blue. He staggered from the blow and fell to the floor, looking up and spotting the culprit rather quickly.

A flying mouse? What?

He didn't have much time to question it, as it came down to get him even more, nailing him in the face as he tried to stand back up and causing him to tumble dangerously close to one of the holes in the floor. He coughed and tried to rise back up, but he heard a loud crack behind him as well as wood groaning, and turned to find the ceiling start to cave in. Fire danced around the wood that started to fall, blocking his way to the stairs, the only exit. Fuel felt a great surge of panic, immediately hopping to his feet and dashing towards the window and about to open it.

The flying mouse wasn't having it. It swooped down from the air and bashed him in the back of the head, making the nine year old flop right back to the floor. Fuel felt his lip tremble even more than before, and he didn't bother to stop the tears from escaping his eyes. A sob tore its way out of his throat, the boy scared for his life. He coughed, the smoke in the room only getting thicker and deadlier, and the ceiling was caving in more and more, the fires it brought spreading and spreading.

He held his breath as he stood back up again, feeling scrapes on his knees when he was forced to the floor. He stumbled his way to the window, wanting so badly to open it and let the smoke out, eager to get some fresh air and call for help.

Like a little pest, the flying mouse made a return. It ferociously bit Fuel's arm and tugged him from the window, the boy crying out in pain and sobbing. It hissed and its wings buzzed, the creature darting forward and hitting the child in the face, knocking him close to another fire, only his hand accidentally landed into one of the flickering destroyers.

Fuel yelped and pulled back his hand from the flame, his eyes quickly scanning over it for burns. He hissed when he experimentally poked it, knowing he wasn't going to be writing with this hand for a while. For a moment he sat there, wondering what to do, what he _could_ do.

The nine year old came up with nothing. He hiccuped and brought his knees to his chest, wondering if he was going to die in his own home. Fuel could feel the stinging hot tears run down his face, dripping onto the near boiling hot floor. He sniffled and coughed, the smoke only getting worse in the room and starting to mess up his lungs. How was he going to get out? He was too young to investigate so his dad told him to stay inside until it was safe, and now _being_ inside was unsafe itself. Was anyone safe? Were Lucas and Claus and their mom safe? Fuel didn't know.

The boy looked up from his position, trying to spot the flying mouse that made him enter this situation in the first place. He saw it off in the corner, the thing nibbling on some food it must've found.

 _Now's my chance…_

Fuel jumped to his feet and kept as quiet as possible to not alert the mouse that he was up and moving. He had to hold his breath to keep the smoke from entering his lungs and making him cough, as well as to prevent anymore hiccups from leaving his mouth. He inched his way to the window and opened it, relishing the slightly cooler air outside compared to the suffocating air inside. His eyes widened when he spotted Lucas' dad rushing through the forest, clearly making his way over to their house.

All attempts of stealthiness went out the window when he saw Flint, the boy dropping his brave and quiet facade, immediately breaking into tears and calling for the man. He screamed and coughed, tears of fright and agitation slipping down his soot dusted cheeks. The man sprinted faster toward the house, he heard him! Fuel was so happy he could almost smile.

The moment of joy quickly went away when he was knocked to the side by the flying mouse once more. The boy was too weak and out of spirit to get back up, choosing to lay on the floor and hope to whatever being out there that he would be okay. He coughed from the smoke in his lungs, and he couldn't stop the tears from pouring out. Heh, it was as if he was Lucas instead.

His sight was dimming slightly when he heard a loud scuffle go on downstairs, Flint quickly showing up with his shirt covering his nose. The man rammed himself into the flaming wood blocking the only way out for Fuel, the cowboy not caring that his clothes were ruined or that his skin was burned.

Flint carefully wrapped his arms around Fuel, lifting the boy to his feet. He checked over Fuel's body, noticing the scrapes on his knees and the burn on his hand. Fuel was quiet, sniffling and watching Flint's shadowed eyes scan over his form. Flint then held out a hand, silently telling Fuel to grab it so he can lead them out. The boy began to reach up his burnt hand, hesitated, and then switched hands, grabbing Flint's hand with the non-injured one instead.

The walk out of the house was quiet, save for crackling fire surrounding them. As they made their way toward the door, the house shook, wood creaking, groaning, and cracking. The once peaceful home wasn't going to be standing for much longer.

They picked up the pace, darting out the door and rushing away from the home. Just in time, too, the house already beginning to collapse under its own weight. In the next moment, before Fuel knew it, his home had fallen to burning pieces.

Fuel had a sick feeling in his gut, and he bit back his tears. He looked up at Flint, who had dipped his soot covered hat over his face. Fuel didn't know what to say, he had nothing come to mind. His house was gone, and his dad was who knows where.

He put on his best brave face, pretending like the whole ordeal was nothing, "Wahh! I'm pitch black and covered in soot, but I'm alive. Oh, you're pitch black too, Mr. Flint. Thank you, Mr. Pitch Black Flint! Thank you so so so much, Mr. Pitch Black _Flint!_ "

His voice cracked slightly at the last 'Flint'. He wondered if Lucas' dad saw through his fake words.

The man tilted his hat and said nothing.

* * *

 **Played Mother 3 for the first time in months today. Got a spring of inspiration when I reached this part in the first chapter. This is what I came up with, all in less than an hour. Forgive me if there's any mistakes. Also, sorry if Fuel seems out of character or something here. I imagine him to be a strong kid, but when put into life threatening situations his strength is hard to tap into, both emotional and physical strength. Plus, in this story he's nine, he's going to be scared. Review if you loved it, please!**


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